


Over and Over Many Setting Suns

by thizzy



Category: Anteros - Fandom, Two Door Cinema Club
Genre: F/M, Fluff, alex realizes his feelings, cuteness, pleas just read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 21:31:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10648449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thizzy/pseuds/thizzy
Summary: Alex knows what it feels to be in love. He's been in and out of love.But he's yet to feel it like this.Aka the Lauralex fic no one asked for or needed or wanted.





	Over and Over Many Setting Suns

**Author's Note:**

> I'll change the name when I find a better fitting title.
> 
> This is fictional and never happened. Please don't slaughter me.
> 
>  
> 
> No one else was gonna write it, so I did...

Everyone has feelings. Every living thing has some kind of feeling or emotion, even a voice. Something as small as a blade of grass has a voice on this big blue planet. Sometimes the feelings flow naturally, immediately as if things as they are we're always meant to be that way. Sometimes they take time to appear. Sometimes you swear with all of your heart and brain to feel one way, but end up feeling different. Sometimes it's unexpected.

Unexpected, as it turns out, is what can make every little step feel like a gigantic leap. Or a jump, straight up in to the clouds...Or a fall in to a dark pit.

The aftermath of falling in love is unexpected. Sometimes it was kind. Sometimes it was harsh. Sometimes there was no real feeling at all. There were people who could fall in love and stay in love with each other until they were both dead and six feet under. Sometimes love blinded a person, and when their eyes cleared and they finally saw their other half for what they truly were, things turned out ugly. And, of course, two people could fall out of love with each other, and break it off on a good note. For everyone it was different. For Alex, love was always different.

He was no extreme expert on human emotions. Sure, he knew his own well enough to put them in to songs with meanings only he really understood and other people just liked to hear, but that didn't mean he could know everyone else as well as he knew himself. Hell, he wasn't entirely sure he knew himself completely, which was a bit scary. He was one tiny being in the big, gigantic universe, and he didn't even know himself as well as he ought to.

Alex had his fair share of harsh-love-after math, and gentle aftermath...and even the 'Look...I'm sorry but I don't feel the same and I don't want to force it' aftermath. And for him, that was okay. At least he never got completely hung up on someone to the point where all he did was cry and dwell on the fact that they're not together. 

He doesn't think he's ever felt anything like this before, though.

The want and need to be with someone always. To the point where you pretty much become a roadie.

Sam and Kevin didn't tag along. Sure, they had great fun with their opening act, but they had wives to go home to. And home, for that matter. Alex had...nothing. He didn't have a wife, or a home. If anything, he'd be lucky and find his stuff in a box sitting on the porch, waiting for him back in Oregon. His pink guitar, his notebooks, the few clothes he left behind, and any small thing of value to him. He didn't want to live there anymore. It was nice, but how could you enjoy something nice when you're never there? And how could someone enjoy your company when you're never home?

He could go back to London, pay his mum a visit, maybe move in with her...but that's a bit odd. A nearly 30 year old knocking on his mother's door, asking "Can I live here?". He could bum off his brother, maybe relive the late nights spent whispering to each other, hoping they didn't get caught being up late past their bedtime (except there was no parents to get mad at them for being up late). Or play Xbox or Nintendo and lovingly hurl insults at each other while getting rammed off the railless edge of Rainbow Road.

But then he remembers he has money. And lots of it. Enough, actually. 

He's not filthy rich, but he can afford a house or a flat, if he wants to live small. He can afford a 3000 dollar jacket and now fret about it if it get stained or torn. Suddenly things seem a bit more okay. He looks out the window of the van he's seated in. The nagging thoughts try to creep their way back in to his brain, but he thinks about the money. He has money, so everything's good.

His train of thought takes a turn down short-memory lane, back to some weeks ago. He'd sat back on the sofa, allowing Laura to strum his guitar while his hand rested on the neck of the guitar, changing the chords for her. It was...nice. The happiest he'd felt in a few days. He was surrounded by friends and they had a good time. He always seemed to have a good time when he was with them on this last tour. From standing side stage and watching the four play and get the crowd warmed up, to having Laura come onstage and sing along to World Is Watching, and all the way through hanging out backstage or in a hotel or on the bus (if there was room) after the show.

They'd become very good friends, even going as far as sharing a jacket. (He thought it was very stylish and cool. He genuinely liked it, and she gladly handed it over to let him borrow it. A true friendship in the making.)

He casts a glance at Laura. She's asleep. She's turned a bit, facing him, hear resting on a pillow that's been jammed between her upper body and the seat behind her. Sunglasses with heart-shaped lenses are blocking her eyes from his view. Her lipstick is slightly faded and something inside of his chest tugs. He feels nervous, as if his chest is gonna tighten and his ribs will enclose his heart and lungs, squeezing until they burst. It's a strange feeling and he can't make it go away. He isn't sure how to capture and contain it either; it feels like—

"Why are you staring at me?" She asks. She's definitely not asleep.

Embarrassed, he quickly turns his face away from her. "I thought you were sleeping, I'm sorry."

"Do you just stare at people when they're asleep?" She laughs, although it's more of a small giggle.

"No...You looked asleep!"

"I was looking out the window, Alex."

His cheeks flush red. "I'm sorry." He continues to look away as she rests back against the seat to resume her window watching.

 

The next time he feels it is when he's standing off to the side of the crowd, watching from a distance. He can see the band fairly well on stage. He's not the world's tallest man, but he's not short either. The people in front of him don't block his view very much. He can see Laura, moving about on the stage, between Joshua and Jackson. He feels his chest tighten. The feeling is back. It feels like...pride. He's proud, proud of all of them, really. But he wants to take her and show her off to everyone and everything with eyes. He wants them to see her...he wants them to know that he's proud of her.

He gnaws on his bottom lip, fighting the smile. He doesn't even know why he's so proud...or why he's smiling like an idiot. His chest still feels tight, but it's not a bad feeling. It's...domestic and content.

The feeling goes away for the most part, when he wills it to. At least, he likes to think it does. He pretends he doesn't feel the now-constant, dull ache in his chest. It's a hint of the feeling that he can't explain or identify. (Or rather, refuses to identify.) He feels it when he's with her; which, recently, has been always. It's, still, not a bad feeling.

He feels it again later, stronger than before, when he looks down at his brightly lit phone screen. He's been tagged in a photo.

Alex is not much of a camera whore. He'd much rather be behind the camera than in front of it, but he doesn't mind the picture at all. He's standing beside Laura (as he is in a few other pictures he'll soon be tagged in). It's not his favorite picture of himself. He was smoking, and the picture was taken off guard as his hand was descending from his face. But Laura...She's got an amazing smile on her face and he realizes that both of them look genuinely happy. He collects a screen capture of the photo, like any sane person would (Who HASNT stolen a good pic or two from their friends' instagrams?) He doesn't have any real reason for it, other than for keepsake. He won't post it on his own page, or send it to all of his other friends. But he still wants it, even if it never leaves the depths of his camera roll. He can always look back at it later, and keep it close. Right beside the picture of him in front of a very colorful mural. (And the video of him playing piano with Joshua...and the 'human triangle' picture...even the photograph of him sitting underneath the table with Harry.)

He shuts his phone off and tucks it away in his pocket. He has to stay alert and keep up with everybody before they walk off without him.

 

 

It's not uncommon to come across very picture-worth sight while out and about. Just about anywhere can suddenly become a place for photo shoots.

"I've found a shirt made just for you," Laura says, beckoning him forward. She directs his attention toward a store window, where a black shirt with orange print reads:

"JUSTICE FOR GINGERS" 

 

"We've got to get a picture of that," she says, leading he and the group inside the store. They have a look around, pick out a few items for theirselves before Alex stops in front of the mannequin sporting the shirt. Laura snaps a photo, then he purchases the shirt and the group continues on their way.

 

Later, he wears the shirt proudly. He doesn't care that it has no real meaning behind the bold orange phrase across his chest. (What do they need justice from? The "soul-less" jokes? The "no eyebrows" jokes? Who knows? Better yet, who cares?)

They're all crammed in to someone's hotel room; their attempt at a party. Someone's telling a story, but no one really cares to listen. They're too busy downing beer, and it's not even dark out yet. Alex fiddles with the ascot around his neck before deciding that that's as comfortable as he's gonna get it, and flops back on to the bed.

"That's a really good pose!" Says Laura, as she clambers on to the bed beside him. "Stay right there!"

He raises a brow, but stays put as she taps the screen of her phone, switching open her camera app. She swings a leg over him so she's sitting on his thighs, a knee on either side of his hips. That feeling returns (the proud/happy chest-tightening feeling), and he lets her reach down with one hand and push the flaps of his jacket out of the way so she can expose the bright orange text of his shirt better. Her hands, although not directly touching his skin, feel soft and a little ticklish. She has a light hand and it tickles his chest and belly as she smooths out his shirt. His chest tightens again, but this time it's accompanied with an even warmer feeling. She's chosen to take another picture of him , and that makes him happy.

"Hold your jacket open," she commands, "with both of your hands."

Alex does as he's told, holding it open by the zippers on each side. Laura looks down at her screen, pulls a face, and shakes her head.

"It's too close. Let me find a better position. Stay like that, darling," she says. She lifts herself off his lap and stands up instead, replacing her knees with her socked feet. "This is way better!"

Alex poses, looking directly in to the camera when she takes the picture. She lingers, standing above him as she viewed the image. He tilts his head a bit, so he's able to view her face better without the phone obscuring the view, "Does it look okay?"

She smiles that amazing smile again, and sits beside him on the bed, holding her phone face down so he can see it. He likes it, almost as much as his picture in front of the mural. That one will remain his favorite. He loves the way his orange mane blends in with the color around the eye. It's beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as the feeling that occurs when he finds himself face to face with her, nothing but a microphone and guitar between them. It makes his heart feel happy. He wants to cherish the feeling forever.

 

 

Alex is sure that pretty soon, his camera roll will be full. No one told him, but being a roadie to Anteros also meant taking and having hundreds of pictures taken.

He's grown accustom to the group of shutterbugs. He's less camera shy (Not that he ever really was.) Although he isn't like most people his age, who are glued to their phones, constantly refreshing their social media feed and posting updates, he remembers that he is the odd one out. Just because he doesn't care much for posting everything publicly doesn't mean everyone else thinks the same way. This means he's become accepting of the fact that someway, somehow, he'll end up on everyone's Instagram story, whether intentionally or not. It just happens.

Especially when you're set to spend the next three days in a small flat with at least four other people. (Well, it was SUPPOSED to be four.)

Ben pays a visit, which is good. It makes things less lonely, in a way. It also makes things more crowded. But friends are friends. And where there's friends, there's a good time.

"You can't steal a shopping buggy," says Alex, giving the basket a look that said 'why, man? For what fucking reason?'. 

Crammed inside of the basket sat four giant gnomes. The smallest one was at least two feet tall.

"I'm not stealing it. I'm borrowing it, there's a difference, Alex." Harry pushes the cart without a care in the world...until it gets stuck on an uneven bump in the ground. "Jackson! Help me out, lad!"

Alex wants to stop them all. To question why the hell they bought for large garden gnomes in the first place. To ask why they're 'borrowing' a shopping basket. To call them all weird. But he doesn't. It's actually a quite hilarious situation. How often do your friends goof off in a super market, then run off with a stolen buggy full of gnomes? Not very often. He does have one question, though.

"Where are we gonna put all of these?"

"Well," Joshua says, smirking. "They're going to sleep in the bed. With you."

"That's actually a good question," Jackson has one hand on the front of the cart, pulling it while Harry lingers behind, "Maybe we can just strap them in to the seats of the van."

That answer is good enough, he supposed. They'll figure out when the time comes.

 

The next morning is a bit chaotic. The living room of the flat is a bit of a mess, which requires the whole team to clean up and make it look nice and spotless. The gnomes are still there, and somehow the shopping buggy has ended up parked beside the sofa. No one has any intentions of returning it any time soon, so it might as well be counted as stolen. No one recalls who's idea it was to actually bring it inside.

Alex, though not much of a coffee drinker, has sipped his way through half a mug. He's unexplainably tired, though it may just be because he couldn't get comfortable in his bed last night. They haven't come to a decision on what to do to entertain themselves, so he figures it's safe to isolate himself in his room for a bit. Perhaps sneak a nap in or watch a film...maybe even read a few chapters from a book he's brought along. At least until the caffeine kicks in.

He takes his mug with him. He's already more than halfway through with it, and it's too good not not finish. He turns the corner to enter the hallway, and literally bumps in to Laura, who appears to be in a hurry. Unfortunately, his mug tips against his chest and the brown liquid spills.

It's hot, and a pained yelp escapes him as the coffee makes contact with his skin through his shirt. In his shock, he lets the mug go; it clatters to the floor. The white ceramic shatters in to pieces on the wood floor, sitting in a splattered puddle of what didn't spill on to his shirt. His natural instinct is to get away from the pain, so he tugs his shirt off. (He also wants to avoid being wet and sticky...it was the only reasonable option.) He uses the sleeve to wipe his chest of any access coffee drops that remained. The normally pale skin is red and puffy under the thin hair. Although his chest is still warm, goosebumps form along his skin. It's cold inside the flat.

"Here—just take mine!" Laura nudges him. A black and white shirt is hooked on her arm. She was carrying it when she bumped in to him.

"Does it fit?" Alex asks, taking it off her arm.

"We're the same size, Alex, just put it on." She says, waving his question off as she kneels carefully to pick up the larger pieces of ceramic.

He wants to protest that they are most definitely not the same size, but he realizes she has already moved on from that, and he tugs the shirt on over his head. It fits him nicely (It must've been a bit big on her). He reaches under the collar to tug is ascot up and back in to place from where it was caught under the shirt, and looks down to check out the design. 'ANTEROS' is printed in black letters, accompanied by two banana peels. One on either side of his chest.

He's going to move, out of Laura's way, but to also help her clean up the mess. A sudden hand on his stomach stops him.

"Stop it, stay there!" Laura says, not even looking up at him. Her hand lingers in his stomach for a bit and he feels all warm and fuzzy inside again. She removes her hand and goes to retrieve another piece of ceramic. "You don't have shoes on, Alex."

"Right..." He lifts his foot again, and she stops him, again.

"Don't move!" She looks up at him with a frown. "Stay."

Alex stays put, even as she gets up and leaves, to grab a broom and towel. She doesn't let him move until she is sure that every last piece of the harmful clay is gone. Then she looks directly at him, smiles, and says, "You've got bananas on your tits now."

"Oh," Alex can't hide the redness that creeps up in to his face, but it's accompanied by a cheeky smile. "Well...they're comfortable."

She giggles, and it makes his insides feel like there's a butterfly fluttering about inside of him, it's wings gently brushing along his inner walls and tickling him from the inside out. It's the feeling again, but instead of proud, it's ticklish. It kind of makes him nervous. The floors been cleaned, as if there was never a mess there to begin with. It's safe for him to step away from the spot he's been confined to. Laura walks toward the living room, and Alex decides that there's no reason to isolate himself in his room. He'd much rather go wherever she's going.

 

"I'm leaving, you know?" Alex spits the remaining butt of the cigarette to the ground and stomps on it. A few glowing embers spark out when it makes contact with the wet concrete, but die out immediately. It's dark out, most everyone is inside the small club, due to the previous rainfall. Alex stepped out for a smoke and, kind-of-but-not-really surprisingly, was followed outside. Most people stay away from a smoking man, to prevent secondhand smoke. Laura doesn't care at the moment.

She watches the cigarette, and although Alex has stomped on it to put it out for good, she knows it never really stood a chance against the wet puddles on the sidewalk.

"I've got to go back on tour again."

"I know." Says Laura.

Alex frowns. He expected and kind of hoped for her to be...sad. Almost. "You're not...disheartened? Won't you miss me? 

"Conceded." She comments with a smile. "I'll see you when you come back, Alex."

How did she know he was coming back? Sure, he'd planned on re-joining them when Two Door was done with this next bit of their tour, but he hadn't told any of them. "What if I don't come back?"

"I'll try not to get my hopes up too high then."

 

 

When he returns, it's as he never left. They pick up right back where they started off. 

He shows up to a show, unannounced. It's a surprise. When the show is done, he'll stick around and surprise them. When Laura sees him, she attaches herself to him in a quick hug that catches him off guard. The hug doesn't last as long as he wants it to, but the warm fuzzy chest-tightening feeling ruptures inside of him and he can't help but smile.

They seem to just gravitate towards each other. As if they can't help it. They're always wide by side, laughing, talking, just having a good time. And even when they can't be adjacent to each other, they're still somehow close. It's like they're supposed to be friends.

Almost like gravity itself is selective, choosing to be strong where she stands, pulling and tugging and making his heart yearn to be near her's.

 

Gravity is kind of unkind.

 

Alex reassumes his position as an official roadie. The feeling continues to linger in his chest and the pit of his stomach, waiting to strike at the right time.

It strikes once, while riding in the van. Alex is seated between Joshua and Laura, enjoying himself. Having a good time. His shoulder brushes hers as he leans forward in his seat, and although it's nothing to get dramatic about, it makes him feel a little giddy.

The feeling rockets up from the pit of his stomach and bounces around his ribcage like an enclosed beast when Laura grabs his shoulder and pushed him back. She takes her pillows and stacks them on his lap, then leans over to rest her head on him. He's shocked at first by her sudden movements, but he can't help but smile at her. He rests a hand on the curve of her side, to steady her and hold her in place, and it feels...right.

He pretends not to notice when she pulls her phone out and gets video of him singing along to the stereo with Joshua.

 

"What do you mean you're sick?" Jackson asks, frowning. "You can't be sick, we have a show in a few hours."

"I'm not terribly sick," Laura says, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her black jacket, "I can make it through the last few shows before I lose my voice. I just...don't feel to well."

Getting sick on tour is not the most ideal misadventure for a singer. Alex knows first hand. It's happened to him before. It's not fun.

"You're not contagious, right?" Harry asks. "Because I'd hate to get sick too."

"You should be fine," says Laura. "It's not like I have a horrible disease."

The others seem to agree that what she says is true, and they kick in to reversals with no more worries.

Laura tries her hardest to stick around after the show. To meet a few fans, maybe sign a few things, but she wants nothing more than to sit back and relax. She doesn't feel like absolute death, but she also doesn't feel like being here.

"Are you alright?" Alex's concern for her is sweet. But she can stick it out.

"I'm fine."

A hand is placed on her forehead. "You feel warm, Laura."

She removes Alex's hand. "I just got off stage."

"You sound like you're dying." Alex can feel a bit of anxiety worming it's way in to his chest. It's not for his own well-being, though. He wants to make sure she is alright.

"You're right. I should probably go—"

"I'll go with you! To...to make sure you get there alright," Alex links arms with her and leads her out of the club they're in. It's a little cool outside, which helps calm him a bit. He keeps their arms linked the whole way there, incase she needed his help.

"It's just a small cold. Not even that," she insists, loosening the link of their arms as they approach the door to the room.

He pulls her closer, and although she insists she's fine, every fiber in his body, everything in his being screams at him to protect her. To keep her safe. It's the feeling, all over again, but this time protective instead of prideful, or warm and fuzzy. He wants to protect her.

She looks at him. Her hair's a little frizzy and messed up due to the show and the breeze. Her cheeks and nose are tinged pink. She looks tired, like she's worked hard and is in need of a rest. She looks…cute.

Alex pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her. The feeling rages inside his chest like a wildfire, and it burns a million times faster when she leans against him in his arms. He rests his cheek on top of her head and holds her for a moment longer, heart racing. She hooks her arms under his and hugs him like she's pulling him down to her. The embrace is comfortable, and neither of them want to pull away. But they remember they're standing in the hallway, and break apart to actually enter the room.

 

"Do you want tea?" Asks Alex, closing the door behind him as Laura heads straight for her bed to lie down.

"Okay," she says, wrapping herself in the bedsheets. He makes her a cup of tea, settling himself in a chair beside her bed.

"I'm staying here, to make sure you don't get worse," Alex declares.

"Play a song for me," She points to an acoustic guitar that's propped up against the wall. It's jackson's, but he won't mind. Alex grabs it, asking her what song she'd like to hear. "I don't know," says Laura, "Surprise me."

"Okay...this is a song I heard a while back when I was listening to a new playlist...it's called Connie," he says. "I really liked it and I've figured out for the most part how to play it."

She sits up to sip at her tea and watch him play.

"Oh Connie. You're a dream. I'd be happy to give you everything. But you don't belong to me. I'm just another kiss on your cheek..." He plays through the song, then moves on the play blackbird, treasure, and What You Know. He plays, softly, until she finish her tea and curls up in the mass of blankets, and falls asleep.

He watches her, finally looking at ease. Her face is rested on the pillow, bangs flopping at an and glue across her upper face. She looks so fucking cute.

He places a kiss on her forehead, over her messy bangs, and silently bids her goodnight.

 

 

"I'm leaving again."

"No!"

This time he gets a reaction. But it's, again, not big or dramatic. They're outside of a hotel this time, it's cool out and a bit of a breeze still blows through the air. She's wearing one of his jackets, holding on to it to keep from slipping off her shoulders.

"You've just gotten back and I was sick half the time." Laura pouts. "That wasn't fun...Where are you off to?"

"We," he corrects, "are going to LA."

"We?"

"You're coming with me. We're going to LA, Laura."

"Alex, what? I can't go to LA! With what money? I'm in a band, Alex, and you know first hand that we don't have millions of pounds, we aren't Beyoncé or Lady Gaga–"

"Look," Alex holds his phone up. Displayed on the screen a confirmation email for the purchasing of two plane tickets. "I've got us covered. We're going to LA. It's on me...I want you to come with me...please?"

"Alex!" He smirks. He hugs him tightly and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, you're so sweet."

His entire face flushes red and he can feel a warmth in the place where her lips were just a second ago. His smirk fades in to a dopey smile. The feeling returns for the billionth time, but this time it's raging inside of him like a series of natural disasters; like an earthquake that causes a volcanic eruption that triggers a hurricane followed by a mass flood. But in a good way. It feels like...the end of the world? But that's impossible when his whole world is standing right in front of him, her arms wrapped around him in a tight hug.

"Alexander," Laura pulls away from him a bit, but keeps her hands on his arms (she notices he's wearing the shirt she gave him after the coffee incident, "Why are you doing this? Not in the bad way, but you're willing to stick around and travel with a low-grade band— not that our music is low grade, our music is very good, but our means of travel is a van and we're not top of the charts...yet, but we'll be there someday, and when we do–"

"Laura."

"Sorry! But why, I just want to know?" 

"Laura," he puts his arms around her and pulls her close again, looking in to her eyes. A million different reasons raced through his brain, although most of them were true, he knew they'd all sound like excuses spilling out of his mouth. If world's could appear in the air as you said him, he knew for sure he'd be embarrassed. "Laura, I'm doing it because...because the first time we hung out, I remember thinking 'She's very cool' and I wanted to be your friend, and as time went on, 'she's very cool' turned in to 'she's REALLY really cool' and as we got to know eachother better, 'she's really really cool' turned in to 'hell yeah Laura!'"

"Hell yeah Laura?" She giggled.

"I can't describe it, don't laugh at me!" He blushed. "I'm doing this because...I found myself enjoying time with you. All the time. You were like my best friend, but better. I'm doing this because you make me really happy and, in a sense, normal..."

"Normal?" She's still smiling and it gives him heart palpitations.

"Normal," he confirms. "Laura…I'm doing it because, and not to quote myself here, I...I know that I'm in love with you."

He rest his forehead against hers, looking in to her eyes as best he can. She's too close for him to actually see clearly, but that's not important. As long as she's there and close and in his arms, that's all he can think about.

"Laura, can I kiss you?" He asks softly.

"Yes," she nods, "yeah...kiss me."

He moves his hands to the side of her face and cautiously places his lips against hers, giving her a quick kiss. It wasn't a make out session or anything extravagant. Just a kiss.

"So...do you want to come with me?" He asked, taking her hands in his own. "To LA, to Coachella, to see California? It's very pretty. Just like the movies."

"Of course I'll go with you!" She holds his hands tightly. "I'll go with you anywhere."

"Really?"

"Really." She smirks. Then, in a singing and playfully mocking voice replies, "Cause I know, yes I know that I'm in love with you!" She kisses him on the cheek and lets go of his hands, turning around and half-dancing half-walking away, singing the rest of Sun.

"Where are you going!?" Alex says, running after her as she steps inside of the building.

She pauses her singing, "I have to go pack my bags and make sure I'm LA ready!"

"Don't leave me behind!" Alex speed walks up to her. She doesn't look back at him, but sticks her arm out behind her, beckoning for him to hold her hand. He takes it and smiles, walking beside her. "Laura?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Can I kiss you...again?"

"Of course."

He leans over and kisses her quickly, then they continue their walk to the room. "Can I do it again?"

She smiles and nods, and he kisses her again.

"One more time?"

She grabs him and kisses him, long and hard. When she pulls away, her lipstick remains in his lips, staining them red.

"How many times are you going to ask me, big guy?"

"Every time I want to kiss you," says Alex. "So...can I have a kiss?"

**Author's Note:**

> Lmao No one asked for this.
> 
> I should just delete everything and never write again but also I want to write more and add on to this


End file.
